Saturday, October 28, 2006
Just in case you aren't paying attention, GT survived fumbling the football on the first play of today's game with Miami to come back to a 13-13 tie at halftime.
Georgia, on the other hand, is down 14-0 after 30 minutes of play.
I know better than to start gloating or celebrating now...check back with me in a couple of hours and I'll let you know.
Tech 30, Miami 23 and now it's time to cook dinner
Well, it’s only a little over six hours until kickoff down in Jacksonville, and I just returned home with a copy of our local newspaper and a couple of scratch off lottery tickets after having to endure standing in line behind five lovely coeds (or possibly former coeds) at the local convenience store.
Three of the group were yapping on cell phones the entire time they were buying their gum and cigarettes.
I noticed that there was also a line of cars outside of the liquor store at 8:30 AM, and as a result you couldn’t PAY me to drive around the island this evening based on the state most of our visitors are going to be in, Win or Lose.
Speaking of girls, with all due respect to my sister and ex-wife (both Tech grads), but I have to admit that Georgia sure has a BUNCH of good looking women that like to wear the school colors. When I went to Georgia Tech back in the late 1970’s the ratio was about seven men for every one women. Needless to say that my sister had it made when it came to social opportunities, while I sat around by myself most Friday nights carving pumpkins and doing drafting homework this time of year.
Fortunately for me, the Georgia Florida game isn’t the only attraction here in the southeast this afternoon. Georgia Tech is hosting a rather weak Miami team up in Atlanta in our Homecoming game which will be televised regionally on ABC this afternoon, so I‘ll be bouncing back and forth between the two games with the TV remote control.
NASCAR is racing in Atlanta Sunday afternoon, but the other major item on the weekend agenda is my final preparations for my pumpkin carving extravaganza at the Montessori School on Monday. I’m doing the test carving of a friend’s small pumpkin using a reduced size copy of my new pattern. I had to quit fooling with it earlier in the week because I was obsessing over details that will probably be lost on most 10 year old kids.
Any way…I hope your weekend is at least half as much fun as mine will be…and I’ll talk to you all later…
Friday, October 27, 2006
There was a time, years ago (it seems like it was almost in another lifetime), back in the days when I had a REAL job selling millions of dollars of fancy doodads and doohickeys to high powered companies like Michelin, Georgia Pacific, Phillip Morris, and Anheuser-Busch, that I was forced into facing the arduous task of actually rising from my bed early each morning, shaving and showering, and driving my auto somewhere to do something somewhere for somebody.
Not so these days...at least for most of the past six or eight years.
For the past year or so, starting out as a hobby, I gotten involved with a friend's business doing some Forensic consulting Engineering, and in the process I'm afraid that I've possibly inadvertently stumbled back into the professional workforce.
After recently flirting with the idea of working as a fry cook, newspaper writer, and a brain surgeon (in the style of Jethro Bodine), I’ve been secretly attempting to re-enter the consulting engineering business, and now it would appear that I’m on the verge of actually having to put my empty wallet were my mouth is (I’m sure that you’ll excuse the mental picture.)
Word has it that everyone’s astir up in Western Canada about a series of seminars which Wayne and I have developed called “Understanding Life Threatening Steam Water Hammer.”
Specifically, our latest victims reside in a place called Ft. McMurray, Alberta, Canada, an area that sits on top of one of the largest tar-sand deposits on the entire planet.
Unlike the eco-Nazis and other tree huggers here in the US, the Canadian government has had the foresight to actually allow oil companies to tap this resource and today we all most likely drive around with some of the products produced by “Syncrude” in our vehicle’s gas tanks.
Any way, as of today, I’m expecting to spend my Thanksgiving bitching and complaining while driving around in the snow while assisting delivering the lectures I‘m selling.
I hate to admit it, but to my estimation, as my health continues to improve, my choice is either work or boredom, and there seems to be a fine line somewhere there in between.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
The hoards are already arriving here on the island. Quick…Everybody…run somewhere and hide.
IT’S GEORGIA FLORIDA WEEKEND…OR FLORIDA GEORGIA WEEKEND if you live down there in Gainesville.
They call it "The Worlds Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party", wrapped around a college football game.
God help us all.
The more affluent one's (the fans) have been trickling in since last weekend.
Nothing personal, but the locals here on our little island that don’t sell food or drinks or hats with a big G or Alligator face on them hate this weekend every year.
Picture Mardi Gras or St. Patrick’s Day, crammed onto an island with a population of less than 17 thousand. This weekend we’ll probably hover somewhere near 30K--most of the visitors staggering, stumbling, studdering stinking drunk for the duration of their entire visit.
Even our little condo development will be assaulted with morons that think that we are used to picking up beer cans and fast food bags from our parking lot year 'round.
I made the mistake of taking Pat out to my friend John Howton’s Blackwater Grill for dinner the first year we resided here and when the evening was over with, she had almost gotten ME into finishing at least a half dozen arguments that could have escalated into fist fights--and those were mostly with WOMEN.
The men were generally well behaved, at least by drunken football fan standards.
I’m pulling the bicycles inside, stopping by the grocery store and liquor store this afternoon, and boarding up the windows and doors to wait for their departure.
If you Pray, Pray for us, and otherwise...wish us good luck...
OK, I’ll start out this morning by saying that I’m sorry if I need to be, but I have to emphatically state that I just don’t give a damn what Michael J. Fox has to say about anything--embryonic stem cell research included.
The part of this issue that keeps being missed by most of the general public and omitted by ALL of the stupid moronic so called professional journalists in the lamestream media is that embryonic stem cell research is legal in most places in the world--President Bush and the US Congress just hasn‘t thus far decided to confiscate any of my money to pay for the efforts.
If, however, YOU have an extra twenty dollars and want to sponsor killing a few excess humans, I suggest that you go on the internet, find yourself an organization that supports the process, and I’ll send you a stamp to put on your envelope because chances are at least 50/50 that anyone that would allow their eggs to be used in such a manner would also produce and rear offspring that would grow up to be a freaking Nancy Pelosi California liberal anyway.
Now, having pissed off most of the liberals and all of the feminists with my introductory rant this morning, let me continue by alienating most of the aliens--both legal and illegal.
Have you heard about the flap that’s been going on up in Minnesota with the airport taxi drivers and passengers carrying alcohol?
Check this crap out…
The taxi controversy at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport has caught the nation's attention. But the dispute may go deeper than the quandary over whether to accommodate Somali Muslim cabdrivers who refuse to carry passengers carrying alcohol.
Behind the scenes, a struggle for power and religious authority is apparently playing out.
At the Starbucks coffee shop in Minneapolis' Cedar-Riverside neighborhood, a favorite Somali gathering spot, holidaymakers celebrating Eid, the end of Ramadan, filled the tables on Monday. Several taxis were parked outside.
An animated circle of Somalis gathered when the question of the airport controversy was raised.
"I was surprised and shocked when I heard it was an issue at the airport," said Faysal Omar.
"Back in Somalia, there was never any problem with taking alcohol in a taxi."
Jama Dirie said, "If a driver doesn't pick up everyone, he should get his license canceled and get kicked out of the airport."
I have a couple of things to say about this issue, and I have to admit that rational consideration has overridden my initial knee-jerk reaction which was basically this:
“Get the $% out of MY country if you don‘t like it…”
First of all, if I own the vehicle, I believe that I should be allowed to determine the behavior of anyone which I choose to provide my services to. In that respect, I'll give our Somalia friends the same courtesy.
That said, I also believe that when you enlist yourself in providing licensed services to the public in return for financial compensation, you also accept certain overall intrusions into your personal space in return for said compensation.
In Somalia, while I would never presume to just wander over and jump into your car wearing blue leotards and a red cape, I would also expect that in NYC or Minneapolis on October 31st you might reasonably expect to haul a man in a gorilla suit and a woman dressed as a French maid from one local to another because it’s Halloween here in America.
"Hey Abdul, over here we have something called disposeable income, and unlike you we’re not busy sending it all back to Africa via Western Union…you know?
By the way, I'll admit that we Americans have vices...we like to do unhealthy things like buying edible underwear that tastes like biscuits and gravy for our women, and it's none of your nappy headed business what color that underwear is, at least as long as we all keep our pants on in your taxicab."
Now this doesn’t mean that I expect our lovely Somali friends to be forced to allow liquor soaked imbibers to splash vodka all over the back seats of their 1976 Impalas on the trip to the Holiday Inn Express, thereby overcoming the pungent aromas of the incense and goat hooves burning on the crinkled, cracked vinyl dash board.
No, it just means that if I happen to have a flask of bourbon or a bottle of wine that I’m intent on taking to my room on my way from the airport at 11 PM (after the hotel bar has already closed) that they should shut their Muslim yaps, pay attention to traffic rather than what I’m hauling around in my carry-on bag, and remember that they are in the By-God-United-States of America, not Africa
And on second thought, if any of these Muslim Taxi drivers continue to have a problem with ME and my bad habits, they should just get the %$#@& OUT of MY country.
There..I said it..because most people are too chicken to speak up, dang it....
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
In the process, it reminded me that I couldn't have said it better myself, so I'm taking the liberty of publishing the Acidman's words from over at Gut Rumbles here in their entirety:
10 reasons Why I [really don't] Hate Black People
In response to the email posted below:
1) I DON'T hate black people. But a lot of people believe that I do, so f**k it.
2) Racism exists in this country and I'm sorry to say that it always will. So will sexism, classism, eliteism and every other kind of "ism" you can name. People have ALWAYS picked on anyone they could, and they always will. That's simple human nature and you'll see it over and over again if you study history.
3) Being black is no excuse for failure. You may have a steeper climb, but you can make it. Look around. A lot of black people have. You can do it, too.
4) Stop making your own bed and bitching about sleeping in it. Black people who listen to Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton and expect the government to give them something for nothing are blind sheep. Those "leaders" have a vested interest in keeping the slaves on the plantation. If you listen to them, that's where you'll stay.
5) Learn to read and write. That's not "acting white." That's the key to success anywhere you want to go. And ANYBODY can master those tools.
6) Nobody ever said life was fair. It ain't and it never will be. Get over that fact. You're not the only people ever pissed on by life. Look at the Jews and the Vietnamese. THEY were pissed on, but they didn't lay there in the puddle to be pissed on again.
7) I've never liked labor unions because they preach the lowest common denominator as a standard for performance. I do not believe that we should dumb down the rest of society, create "4.6" GPAs and engage in the tacit racism of low expectations for black people. That kind of crap only exacerbates the problem.
8) Black men: raise your goddam children. I've heard this shit too often to recall--- some 20-something black guy bragging to his buddies at work that he KNOWS he's a man because he's sired three children by different wimmen. He doesn't know his kid's names, but that doesn't matter to him. He thinks he's a man. Dogs do what he did. Fathers don't.
9) Accept responsibility for your own actions. I know that it's a lot to ask in today's victim-oriented society, but do you really believe that hip-hop and rap, ebonics and baggy pants are the way to get out of the ghetto? I don't think so. I believe it's the way to keep yourself mired there and it's YOUR CHOICE TO MAKE.
10) Blame all of your problems on ME. That's right. If you are unemployed, living on a welfare check, semi-raising illegitimate children and unable to read the want ads in the newspaper, I DID THAT TO YOU. Me. Whitey. It ain't YOUR fault. Racist bastards such as myself took away every opportunity in your life, made you drop out of school and become pregnant or a jailbird and bitter because manna from heaven didn't fall right into your lap. Just do me one simple favor. Take a good, long look in the mirror before you point a finger at me.
Okay, there's a racist rant. Now, all you bleeding hearts and Acidman-haters can have a field day with it.
OK folks, I know that there's a whole bunch of stuff going on out there in the world that's just BEGGING me to make some of my patented irreverent commentary on and/or about, but I haven't found the time because I'm actually busy doing something that I rarely do...WORKING.
Meanwhile, it's turned off a bit chilly down here on our little island--actually recording a record low temp yesterday morning. Needless to say the bike stayed parked on the rack on my bumper last night.
One thing which I want to mention is that, as you probably already know, we've got an election coming up in less than two weeks. Why not do the rest of the population a favor and find out the names of the candidates on your local ballot and consider putting an X beside said name based on a reason other than the "D" or "R" listed on your computer screen or hanging by your "hanging chads?"
I just hate people that do their voting by default, and I'd like to think that the people that stop by here to read my rantings are smarter than that.
Now you have my permission to go back to whatever you were doing...
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
It’s 37 degrees Fahrenheit down here on our little island this morning, but even as winter comes upon us here in the Golden Isles, our fine feathered friends continue to amaze me with their presence and antics.
The bad news is that we lost one of our young Cardinal’s to a window strike on the front patio this week. I’m afraid that our giant panes of glass surrounding our living room on the front and rear of the condo have killed more birds than we realize over the years, particularly when our drapes are open--as we lost another little guy or gal a few weeks ago from another collision with our front window.
The good news is that we’ve had the opportunity to visit with a number of BIG birds at close range recently. Pat and I spent about five minutes last weekend sitting in the car about 50’ away watching a young Red Tailed Hawk stand in a rain puddle in our parking lot drinking his or her fill of water.
Early Sunday morning about 4 AM, while doing my nocturnal bike ride, I had an encounter with our local Great Horned Owl that I’ve been “talking to” on and off for the past couple of years.
By “talking to,” I mean having a hooting competition.
I can’t and won’t try to write the syllables of the conversation down here on the blog for you to read, but I honestly believe that the big bird responds to the noises which I make. Feel free to call the authorities and have a straight-jacket delivered if you will.
Finally, yesterday, a giant blue Heron came squawking 50 feet up in the air across our heads and landed on the roof of our building while we were standing out in our front yard, flapped and flopped around doing some personal preening, then squawked a few more times and fluttered off back to the lake adjacent to the nearby 18th hole of our golf course.
I truly LOVE living here…
Sunday, October 22, 2006
I've been wanting one of these for a couple of years now, so I just picked one up tonight on the Internet from some hippies out in California:
(No Rusty, I'm gonna play music on it...not smoke it...and I have to come up with my own feathers and vegetation to wear while playing it...)
What it is is a "Didgeridoo", an instrument designed by the native Australian Aboriginal Peoples.
I've had some success in the past playing wind instruments like the trumpet and the harmonica, I know that I've had limited success with and could probably play the piano successfully in public if I bought one and put my mind to it, and I've fiddled (excuse the pun) with the violin a little but found it and the guitar to be of lessor interest and greater effort than I could muster with my scatter-brained lifestyle.
Enter the Didgeridoo, stage right...
These things are really cool sounding. They make that eerie woooommmmm waaaaawwwwww wooommmmmm waaaaaaawwww "droning" sound that you've heard in the movies and on TV.
No, I don't expect to make any money playing my Didgeridoo for throngs of cheering fans anytime in the near future, I just want to display mine in my living room and
piss Pat off while she's trying to sleep entertain myself late at night when I'm tired of blogging.
Next on the acquisition list is a pair of Caribbean Style Steel Drums...something like this would do nicely:
I've got to go now...I need time to practice my circular breathing...